


Rash

by facade



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Ambiguous Content, Angst, Anxiety, Anxious Tick, Arsenal FC, Comfort Sex (kind of), Detachment, FC Barcelona, Flashbacks, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, Rebound Sex (kind of), Self-Harm, Skin picking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facade/pseuds/facade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Anon: ok my request is super vague so feel free to mix it with another request or something if it works. can you just give me neymar centric, something angsty pls?</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <strong>Nails to skin to blood. Nails to skin to blood. Nails to skin to blood.</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	Rash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Red_C](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_C/gifts).
  * Inspired by [His Sole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931790) by [facade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/facade/pseuds/facade). 



> This can be read as a stand-alone so... *shrugs*  
> *drowning in the edit*

You could say that his heart was racing, that his thoughts were frantic and scattered, so far into everywhere and everything that they winded up nowhere with nothing at all but always, always beyond the reaches of his understanding... You could say that he was shattered, nothing more than a pile of fragments of a person who was in an otherwise hollow shell, that he was distraught beyond belief and would soon drown himself in the tears that were glistening on his cheekbones… You could say a lot of things about him - you could point out the obviously dry eyes and running nose, or even the trembling hands and shaky exhales, forced inhales - but regardless of how much you said, of what you said, it would never be enough, would never accurately describe this thing that seemed to be consuming him.

He felt numb as he reached down and started to run a thumb over the smooth surface of his forearm, felt nothing as he placed a small fragment of his skin's surface in between the nails of his index finger and thumb, drowned in nonentity as he slowly started to pick away at himself. He just lay there on the bed of his hotel room, blood rising to the surface of his skin as he plucked away at the shell of the man he once was, and allowed his mind to wander to times when his life had made sense.

> _“Why on earth would you miss someone like me,” he heard Alexis tease as he slowly walked forward, backing him to the sofa just behind where they stood; neither of them had been able to sit due to the intensity of Alexis’ message but he could see the tension slowly leaving the other man’s shoulders. Alexis seemed to be relieved of the weight he had carried into the house and he couldn’t help but smile as he saw the Chilean collapsing to the couch, giving in to his soft pushes. “Besides…” he heard the other attacker continuing as he felt a hand pulling him down to rest on the sofa with him. He winced at the slight pain radiating through his spine but he quickly positioned himself to where he was lying across Alexis’ lap, felt the other adjusting to hold him within his arms, felt Chilean lips pressing against his neck, hot breath ghosting over his exposed flesh. “…I’m taking you to England with me. We’ll always be together.”_

He had known that he’d miss his laugh and his smile, his sense of humor and the way the world around them seemed to fall to ash when they were together… but as the realizations and possibilities started to dawn on him, it became so, so much more than that. He felt the burning sensation returning to his eyes as the four words echoed through his mind, seeming so timeless and so pure then, now nothing more than a tainted lie told to make a transition easier. (We’ll always be together), he thought bitterly as he tore away at his flesh, blood staining his fingertips and the white sheets of his comforter alike. (We’ll always be together), he thought as the words resounded throughout to his core, settled in on a nerve and made way for themselves by shoving out a few more tears to stain his cheeks. He mindlessly lifted his arm and wiped away at the moisture, painting his face with the watered down red of his arm, wincing as the salty water burned the fresh openings trailed along his forearm. (We’ll always be together). He scoffed at the thought, at himself for having been naïve enough to believe in the word ‘always’.

> _His shirt and shorts had already been carelessly tossed to the floor when his phone had started to vibrate wildly on the end table. He threw his towel onto the bed as it caught his attention, trading the fabric for his cellular phone and smiled to himself as he read the name flashing across the screen. Without hesitating any longer, he slid his finger across the phone’s surface and pressed his phone against his cheek. “Hey,” he smiled into the phone, not bothering to wait for the Chilean’s greeting. “Are you still enjoying England or…?” he asked immediately as he allowed his body to collapse to the mattress, sighing as he felt the muscles in his legs turn to mush against the feel of Egyptian cotton. He reached out and aimlessly ran his hands over the soft sheets, smiling as his senses traded the soft, soothing feelings for a sound even softer, even more soothing._
> 
> _Alexis smiled as Neymar’s voice found him from over nine-hundred miles away and shook his head, looking at his surroundings in disbelief for the umpteenth time since he had arrived three, four months ago. “I was scolded for holding onto the ball for too long,” he offered with a laugh as he started undressing, falling to the bed clad in only his boxer-briefs, sighing as the weight of the day left the soles of his feet. “He dropped me. He fucking dropped me for disrupting play,” he chuckled, disbelieving the words as they came out of his own mouth and fell on his ears for the second time that day. “When I first went to Barça, you know what I was criticized the most for…?” He asked though the question was rhetorical as Neymar had still been in Brasil at the time. “I was too direct and disrupted their style of play. Ironic, no?” He could hear the younger man laughing and felt his chest fill with warmth as he envisioned the gaping smile that must have been plastered on the Brasilian’s features. “It’s not half bad, though. Just the food; it’s bland and I would kill a keeper for a plate of paella right now,” he mused as he threaded his fingers through his hair, “…and the music. I don’t think I’ll be adjusting to it anytime soon, there’s no rhythm to it,” he chuckled, certain that the Barça forward would understand. “I think the English are deaf but it explains why they have no movement in their hips.”_
> 
> _Neymar laughed inaudibly as he pictured Alexis moving his hands back and forth to indicate movement and shook his head as larger wave of amusement washed over him. He turned away from the phone and laughed into the otherwise empty room, taking a moment to recompose himself before he turned his attentions back onto the conversation. “That sounds awful,” he snickered into the mouthpiece of the phone. “You should, uh, you should definitely come back to Spain. I’ll even make you paella on your first night.”_
> 
> _“You’ll burn me paella,” Alexis corrected with a cheeky grin plastered across his face, “you’ll burn me paella and then we’d head to that place just up the road from your house, the one with the dimly lit candles and the pictures of Mas on the walls...”_
> 
> _“…but I’d make it up with dessert,” Neymar interjected as his eyes softened and as his hands found his own body, his own waistband. “You know that there is no one else like me that can make up for burnt food with a mind blowing…”_
> 
> _“…dessert,” Alexis moaned out as he pulled his fingers from his hair and started running them along his chest and abdomen. “Why do you think I always want you to cook for me, huh?” He asked as his voice grew raspy. He felt roses blooming on his cheeks and moved his fingers to play with his nipples and smiled as he heard Neymar gasping from the other end of the line. “I’m actually in the mood for something sweet, now that you mention it.”_

The sound of the door to his hotel room opening pulled him out of the memory but not out of the feelings it had resonated within him. He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and aggressively chewed at the skin flaking on its surface, chewed and picked as more of his forearm was painted in the soft red of himself. He felt plagued by his memories, attacked by his own thoughts, like a rash they spread through him, itched at him from the inside out. Nails to skin to blood. Nails to skin to blood.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

A voice broke through the silence of the room; it was a familiar voice but he was too distant to make out the features of the person holding it, too far off to pick out the little distinctions that made the person’s voice unique to them, too far gone to see him, to truly see him. Nails to skin to blood. Nails to skin to blood.

> _“Are you, are you fucking kidding me, Alexis?!” Neymar shouted as the other man’s words fell through the phone. He didn't know what to do with himself, with his hands, with his thoughts, with his everything. “How could you...? How could you...? I can't believe you would... You’re, you're a fucking piece of shit and I swear to God and all things I find holy that I never…”_
> 
> _“No, no, no. It’s not… I swear it’s not…” Alexis stammered through the phone as he quickly pulled himself together and shrugged at the man standing in the doorway of his hotel room. He searched for his pants with the cellphone glued to his ear and tried to calm the raging Brasilian while trying to figure out how he was supposed to explain the situation at hand to the other man. "Hey, listen to me. Please... It's not... Hello? Hello? DIOS MIO!" He shouted as he harshly threw his cellphone into his bag and hopped into his jeans. "I can't believe... That fucking puta hung up on me and I... mierda. MIERDA! "_

He felt a warmth pressing up against him, inhaled a fragrance of peppermint and cedar as it lingered in every space in front of him, and allowed the strange yet familiar body to pull him closer. He could hear a question (“Ney, did you do this to yourself?”) but wasn’t bothered enough to give it an answer, didn’t care enough to clarify what was going on to Xavi, Andres, Leo, or whoever the fuck had wondered into his room. Thoughtlessly, he nuzzled his face into the crook of the neck of whoever and pressed his lips against the salty skin of whoever, tasted whoever and quietly sighed as he found him to taste of peppermint. He could hear whoever weakly protesting, could feel hands attached to both of his hips both pulling him in and pushing him away as the other seemed to be conflicted... until he reached down and started to rub his hand against whoever’s groin.

Whoever’s protests were silenced at the contact, were exchanged for contented moaning and little inaudibles. The warmth of the other body left him as whoever fell into the clutches of his comforter, pulling him down with him as an unspoken plea for more… He pulled down the pants of whoever and helped him out of his shirt, helped him achieve the same level of undress he was in before deciding that neither of them needed their boxer-briefs. As soon as those joined their other articles of clothing on the floor, he threw his legs over the well trained body of the other person, straddling him as he gently rolled his hips against those of the other man, and continued his assault on the neck of whoever. He could hear the other man’s sighs of satisfaction as he reached down and started to trace the ridges and valleys of whoever's abdomen, nipping at the other body’s collarbone as his hand eventually fell to the other’s hard shaft, eliciting a string of curses in that strange yet oh-so familiar voice.

There were no signs of hesitation as he slid the other man into him, no thoughts of lube or condoms, only the need of feeling something, anything beyond the irritation of this rash that had lingered and spread within this shell of himself. The burn was fierce and it spread through his veins like wildfire, burned away at the traces of ‘them’ that had been crawling and nipping away at him from beneath his surface. The other man felt large and massive within him, but he needed more of whoever if only to push the itch of ‘them’ out of himself altogether - completely, needed something from the now to rid him of the past if only for a moment. If only for a moment... He felt the hands of whoever clinging to his hips but pushed himself beyond the tight hold, slid himself further down the man until his arse collided with whoever’s sharp hip bones. The burn was consuming, intoxicating, liberating… He removed his hands from behind him, off of the thighs of whoever, and clinched at the muscled shoulders of the other, allowing his eyes to roll to the back of his skull for a brief moment. He went to lift his hips but the emotional drain of the day anchored his physical self, left him weak and incapable. He removed his hands from the shoulders of whoever and wrapped his arms around the other's torso instead, rolling himself and the other over, keeping the other man firmly held within himself as he felt the soft of Egyptian cotton pressed against his back once again, saw the shadow of whoever looming over him. “Hard,” was the only thing he mumbled out as he dug his fingernails deep, deep, deep into the shoulder blades of the other man, moaning as whoever seemed to comply immediately.

Nails to skin to blood. Nails to skin to blood. Nails to skin to blood… and for a moment, for a moment there was no rash beneath the surface to scratch, no itch to demand his attention as the burn of whoever set his insides ablaze, set 'them' ablaze. 


End file.
